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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



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http://www.archive.org/details/rileyrosesOOrile 



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V^^ _ .Indiana 














COfUmht, 1909 

James ^bitcomb fiilc? 



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Cl^ 24 4 713 
AUi 13 1909 




®l)e toorlD is full of roses, 

3uD tlif rosrs 
hill of DClD, 

ant) tl)f DrU) IS full 
of Ijfalicnlv lotof, 

djar Drips for mr ant) you. 






Contcntjs 

^ discouraging JHotiel 
(2^lti^jFasj)ioneti looses 
Clje 3^osr 





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H Discouraging 
jVlodcl 

7ust the airiest, 

fairiest slip of a thing, 

CClith a 6ain6borough hat, 

like a butterfly's wing, 

Cilted up at one side 

with the jauntiest air, 

Hnd a hnot of red roses 
sown in under there 

cohere the shadows are 

lost in her hair. 



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H Discouraging 
)VIodcl 

Chen a cameo face, 

carven in on a ground 

Of that shadowy hair where 
the roses are wound; 

Hnd the gleam of a smile 

O as fair and as faint 

Hnd as sweet as the 
masters of old used to paint 

Round the lips of 

their favourite saint! 







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H Discouraging 
JVIodel 

Cbe flahcs of tbcir 
touches — first 

fluttering at 

Cbe bow — then 

the roses — the hair 
— and then that 

Little tilt of the 

Gainsborough hat. 



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H Discouraging 
)VIodcl 

O what artist on earth, 

with a model like this, 

Rolding not on bie palette 
the tint of a kies, 

Nor the pigment to hint 

of the hue of her hair, 

)Sor the gold of her smile— 

O what artist could dare 

Co expect a result 

half so fair? 




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Old-fashioned 
Roses 

Cbcy ain't no style about 'em, 

Hnd they're sorto' pale and faded, 
Yit the doorway here, without 'em, 

dould be lonesomer, and shaded 
CClith a good 'eal blacker shadder 

Chan the morning-glories mahes, 
Hnd the sunshine would look sadder 

fer their good old-fashion' sakes. 

I like 'em cause they kindo'- 
Sorto' make a feller like 'em I 



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3'm Ijapptcr in tt)esc posits 
9lnti tt)e |)ollpt)atDks anti sidj 

'Ct)anti)ei)ummin''btrti 'at noses 
3fn tljc roses of tj)c ricj) 




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Old-fasbioncd 
Roses 



Htid ber eyes, afore she shut 'em, 
Rlbispered with a smile and said 

UXc must pick a bunch and putt 'em 
In ber band wben sbe wuz dead. 

But, as I wuz a-sayin', 

Cbey ain't no style about 'em 
Tery gaudy er displayin', 

But I wouldn't be witbout 'em, — 
'Cause I'm bappier in tbese posies, 

Hnd tbe bollybawks and sicb, 
Cban tbe bummin'-bird 'at noses 

In tbe roses of tbe ricb. 









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'Che Rose 

It tossed its bead at 

the wooing breeze; 

Hnd tbe sun, like 

a basbful swain^ 

Beamed on it tbrougb 

tbc waving trees 

Cnitb a passion 

all in vain, — 



for my rose laugbed 

in a crimson glee, 

Hnd bid in tbe leaves 
in wait for me. 





W&'M 





The Rose 

Che boncy-bec came 
there to sing 

Ris love through 

the languid hours, 

Hnd vaunt of his hixes, 

as a proud old hing 

)VIight boast of 

bis palace-towers: 

But my rose bowed 
in a mochery, 

Hnd hid in the leaves 
in wait for me. 



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The Rose 






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Che buTntning-bird, 

like a courtier gay, 

Dipped down rcitb 

a dalliant song, 

Hnd twanged bis wings 

tbrough tbe roundelay 

Of love tbe 

whole day long: 

Yet my rose turned 

from bis minstrelsy 

Hnd bid in tbe leaves 
in wait for me. 






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Jtircam totiapo'er a purple statu 
(9f Uoom ou a toitf)crcti stalk 

iielteti tio\i3U h^ ti)e autumu raiu 
Ju ti)t tiust of tj)t sartitu toalk 





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HECKMAN 
BINDERY INC. |§ 

^t. DEC 88 

N. MANCHESTER, 








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